


Morning Light Explodes

by ChameleonCircuit



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Amnesia, Angst, Canon typical mentions of violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, coffee shop AU, seriously in the loosest sense lmao, starisi - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 16:22:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15889674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChameleonCircuit/pseuds/ChameleonCircuit
Summary: Peter tried to take a deep, measured breath and think about things rationally, but rationality told him Sonny couldn’t be here. He knew that Sonny had died undercover a year ago. He knew this didn’t make sense.Missing, presumed dead, his brain supplied, and he let himself relax into the tiny glimmer of hope it provided.





	Morning Light Explodes

**Author's Note:**

> This is unbeta'd. Just a tumblr fill that got out of hand so I felt it deserved its own separate fic (I may or may not be considering writing a sequel)
> 
> http://sofuckingchuffed.tumblr.com/post/177696168017/coffee-shop-au-amnesia-starisi
> 
> My fic titles are nonsensical, and this is no exception, except that it's a lyric from 'Love You Till The End' by The Pogues

Peter was sure his heart stopped when he stepped into the cafe around the corner from his hotel and came face to face with sparkling blue eyes and a smile that could light up the sky.

It felt like a lifetime since he’d seen those dimples in the flesh, eyes crinkling at the corners. He knew he was staring, but it was as though time had stood still and the rest of the world had faded away, and it was just Sonny, smiling at Peter like he was seeing him for the first time, and nothing else mattered.

Until Sonny’s smile pulled downward and his head tilted in concern, and everything rushed back into focus, too bright, too loud, causing Peter’s heart to thump painfully in his chest.

“Sir? You okay?”

Peter sucked in a deep breath that didn’t quite reach his lungs as he felt tears prick at his eyes. He blinked furiously, trying to fight the feeling, but he didn’t dare drop his gaze in case he looked up and it was someone else in front of him, someone other than Sonny.

“Hey,” Sonny said softly, reaching across the counter to place a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Rough morning?”

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come. He wondered for a moment if he was dreaming, or if he’d lost his mind and was trapped somewhere inside his own head while his body lay in a catatonic state. The latter once would have terrified him beyond belief, but if Sonny was his form of psychosis, he wasn’t sure he minded.

In lieu of an answer, he shrugged, and Sonny’s grip on his arm tightened. “How about you go take a seat, and I’ll bring you a coffee?”

Peter nodded dumbly, but a sense of panic ran through him when Sonny let go of his arm to move around the counter. He could already feel his chest growing tight, his breaths coming a little faster, by the time Sonny was by his side, guiding him to a table.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” Sonny said softly, and Peter felt all the grief he’d been holding onto for the past year bubble to the surface.

He tried to take a deep, measured breath and think about things rationally, but rationality told him Sonny couldn’t be here. He knew that Sonny had died undercover a year ago. He knew this didn’t make sense.

 _Missing, presumed dead,_  his brain supplied, and he let himself relax into the tiny glimmer of hope it provided.

It felt like forever and yet no time at all before Sonny was seated across from him, sliding a mug of coffee and a mini cannoli across the table with a soft smile that Peter recognized as Sonny’s victim smile. It made his stomach churn.

“What’s your name?” Sonny asked quietly.

“Peter,” he responded automatically, before thinking to add, “Yours?”

“Dom.” Sonny grinned, and Peter’s heart thumped painfully.

Dominick Ricci. That had been Sonny’s alias undercover, thrown into an Italian sex trafficking ring importing and exporting underage girls. He briefly wondered if Sonny was somehow still undercover, but that didn’t make sense — he would have identified himself in some way if he had, let Peter know he was still working.

Peter liked to think Sonny also wouldn’t have gone an entire year without somehow letting him know he was okay.

“What brings you to Italy?”

Peter huffed out a wet sounding laugh and glanced down at his coffee. “Change of pace.”

When he looked back up, Sonny was still grinning at him, but there was an added softness to his eyes. “Yeah, I get that.”

“Where are you from, Dom?”

Sonny’s smile faltered, and he picked his own mug up in both hands, trailing his thumb across the rim. “It’s kinda a long story.”

Peter offered him a small smile, his stomach twisting in anticipation. “I’ve got time if you do.”

Sonny glanced back behind the counter, and after receiving a small nod from the elderly woman serving pastries, turned back to Peter with a sigh. “I don’t really know,” he admitted quietly.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Peter sat forward a little more, a restlessness filling him up with his growing need to know, to understand what Sonny was doing 4,000 miles from home instead of curled up beside Peter in bed on a lazy morning off.

“Exactly what I said. I don’t know,” Sonny offered him a weak, apologetic smile. “I woke up in hospital a year ago with no knowledge of who I am or where I was from. Thank God I somehow knew basic Italian.”

Sonny laughed at his own attempt at a joke, but Peter’s stomach dropped, and he felt suddenly overwhelmed by it all. Sonny, the absolute love of his life whom he’d been grieving the loss of for an entire year was sitting in front of him in a cafe in Italy and he had absolutely no idea what he’d put Peter through, what he’d put everyone through.

It wasn’t until Sonny touched Peter’s hand lightly that he realized he was shaking. He swallowed hard on the lump rising in his throat and pulled away from Sonny’s touch.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered as he stood, his chest aching so much he was sure his ribcage was actually shrinking.

“Peter, wait!” Sonny called after him, but Peter was already out the door, practically running to his hotel room.

He spent the rest of the day wrapped up in his own panic, his own grief, and the insane piece of hope that he’d taken from all of this. Because despite its insanity, Sonny Carisi was alive, and well, and living in Florence. And he didn’t even know who he was or what he’d left behind.  _Who_  he’d left behind.

* * *

 

Peter had every intention of telling Sonny everything; of sitting him down, showing him photos, telling him facts, easing into stories, letting it all sink in. But when Peter saw Sonny the second day, he froze completely, and all logic flew out the window at the sight of Sonny smiling at him, looking relieved beyond belief to see him again.

And when Sonny asked him if he was free that afternoon, Peter found he couldn’t refuse.

It went on like that for weeks. Peter would visit the cafe, have a coffee with Sonny, and make plans for that evening. They would spend their evenings together eating good food, drinking good wine, laughing and dancing, and Peter was falling in love all over again.

Every night Peter told himself he would talk to Sonny the following day, but every day was the same pattern. It was nice, and comfortable, and it eased the ache that had been present ever since they’d declared Sonny dead. They would joke, and tease, and flirt, and it felt like the days before they fell in bed together, before they acknowledged how they felt, when everything was new and exciting and uncertain. It was their bubble, and Peter, despite knowing how selfish it was, couldn’t bear to ruin it for either of them.

“You’re going home soon,” Sonny said casually as they stepped out onto the sidewalk one afternoon.

Peter squinted against the setting sun to look at Sonny, giving him a small nod. “Three days. I can extend, though.”

“You’d do that?” Sonny asked shyly, dipping his head as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “For me?”

Peter didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.”

Before he knew what was happening, Sonny was swooping in, planting a gentle kiss on his lips, one hand cupping his cheek while the other remained in his pocket, likely fiddling with the inside seam.

Surprise let Peter enjoy the moment for a brief second before his heart threatened to burst out of his chest and his lungs decided to close up. He pulled away, gasping for breath as tears stung his eyes.

He closed his eyes as his head spun, and he felt Sonny’s hand settle on his shoulder, uncertain.

“Woah,” Sonny muttered, close to his ear. “I’m sorry. I thought—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Peter shook his head. He wanted to tell Sonny it was okay, but he wasn’t sure it  _was_  okay. He sucked in another sharp breath.

“I—“ he broke off with a shudder, a sob if he was being completely honest with himself, and he allowed Sonny to pull him in close, whispering soothing words that Peter couldn’t quite understand.

It was as though the dam had broke, and all that grief and pain and heartache he had pushed aside for this newfound blip of happiness had come bursting forth. He felt that familiar sense of shame that came with coming undone in front of another person fill him up, burning his neck, his cheeks, his chest, but he didn’t bother to fight the tears as they came hard and fast, his body heaving with sobs so hard he felt nausea bubble in his stomach.

It was only once his breathing evened out and his tears dried up that he realized he was sitting on a worn out lounge in an unfamiliar living space. He pulled away from Sonny a little to rub at his own eyes, and glanced away, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, voice raspy and worn.

“Don’t be.” Sonny placed his hand over Peter’s, linking their fingers tentatively. “You’ve clearly been dealing with a lot.”

Peter sighed, squeezing Sonny’s hand in return as he ran his other hand over his face, through his hair, trying to find some sense of composure.

“You don’t have to tell me, but—“

“Actually, I do,” Peter cut him off, releasing Sonny’s hand to reach into his own pocket in search of his phone.

He turned in his seat to face Sonny, forced himself to look into those baby blues, now tinged with worry. He fiddled with his phone, hands shaking, before he pulled up his album with photos of him and Sonny.

“I should have told you this the first day I saw you,” Peter began, offering a weak smile. “It’s a lot, but please hear me out.”

He brought up a photo of him and Sonny together, Peter’s arms wrapped around Sonny, chin resting on his shoulder, both smiling, both happy. He swallowed against the lump rising in his throat and turned his phone towards Sonny.

“This is us. On holiday in Australia.”

Peter let Sonny take the phone from him as he spoke, let him scroll through the photos that documented their time together, all the way back to before they had even put a name to what they had together. He filled Sonny in on the stories behind each photo, feeling a slight thrill under his humming anxiety every time Sonny laughed.

After a little while, he covered Sonny’s hands with his own, casting the phone aside. “Are you okay?”

Sonny lowered his head, squeezing Peter’s hands as he took a deep breath. When he looked back up, his eyes were shining with tears, but he looked happy, and Peter felt the tightness in his chest ease just a little.

“I feel crazy,” he whispered, and Peter huffed out a wet laugh.

“How do you think I felt when I saw you that day?”

Sonny shook his head, and the action shook loose a couple of tears that trailed down his cheeks. Peter reached out and brushed them away with his thumb before cupping Sonny’s face in his hand.

“Are you okay?” He repeated.

“I don’t know,” Sonny admitted, closing his eyes as he leaned into the touch. “It’s a lot.”

They were silent for a while before Sonny opened his eyes, covering Peter’s hand with his own, pressing it into his cheek a little more firmly. “I knew there was a reason I was so drawn to you.”

Peter laughed and shook his head. It still felt too good to be true. “I was expecting you to freak out.”

“I can’t promise that won’t come later,” he teased before giving Peter’s hand a squeeze. “It makes sense. I feel like I finally have the piece that I’ve been missing this past year.”

Peter felt his eyes grow wet at that, and he looked away with a cough. “Me too,” he said hoarsely.

“What happens now?”

“Whatever you want,” Peter said quickly, looking at Sonny again. Somehow he seemed closer. “There’s no obligations, there’s no rush, whatever you want, we—“

Sonny cut him off with a kiss, quick and chaste, but Peter melted into it nonetheless, some of the tension he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying easing from his shoulders.

“Can I spend the night with you?” Sonny asked shyly, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Of course,” Peter said in a breath, pressing a quick second kiss to Sonny’s lips. “Of course.”

“And then we’ll make a plan.”

Peter nodded, smile slowly taking over his face as he pressed his forehead against Sonny’s, and for the first time in a year, his smile felt entirely natural.


End file.
